Sooo...part of the whole reason I started this blog was because I was fairly (and still am) addicted to a) thebump.com (I'm what they call a "lurker," someone who never posts but just reads), and b) amalah.com. I was reading about and observing all these women who literally blog FOR A LIVING. Okay, not so much on thebump...most of those women just have glorified brag books as blogs, logging their daily interactions with their child(ren). Which, don't get me wrong, is a great and wonderful way to chronicle some of the most challenging and rewarding times in a woman's life. But a small handful of those "bumpies" (just threw up in my mouth a little bit for actually using that term) have some interesting things going on and I actuallly find myself liking what they're putting out in the universe. I think I think what a lot of readers do (and what those bloggers are trying to get across): THANK GOD SOMEONE ELSE HAS EXPERIENCED THIS WITH THEIR CHILD. Throw in a little wry humor, some cute baby photos, witty commentary, and you have yourself a mommy blog. So maybe that's what I'm going for here...I don't know yet. But do I have to "out" myself and actually put a face on my blog? Why can't I just be the Girl in the Green Scarf a la Confessions of a Shopaholic (HORRENDOUS movie, by the by)? I guess I'll worry about that once I actually have any semblance of a following.
Speaking of confessions, hypothetical readers, here's a random list of some...some mommy-related, some not...
- I read thebump.com boards, like, way too much. Although I never post anything, I totally, flat-out judge almost everyone on there...because, in case you didn't know, I'm a judge-y person. I know I shall one day receive my comeuppance, and I'm not looking forward to it.
- I hate myself for repeatedly getting the line, "I'm throwin' on my Louboutins" stuck in my head throughout the day. (But love the fact that I know how to correctly spell "Louboutins.")
- I am the kind of woman I would hate if I were not myself: I was back into pre-pregnancy jeans two weeks after giving birth. Two months after giving birth those jeans were hanging off me and I had to buy new jeans, a size smaller. Breastfeeding does wonders, people. I wish I could attribute exercise, a healthier diet, forgetting to eat...but none of those things happened. My "exericse" was lazily walking around the mall for an hour pushing a stroller, making numerous stops to browse. My "diet" was shoving whatever I could easily prepare one-handed into my mouth. And forget about forgetting to eat. FEED ME, SEYMOUR.
- The first couple months of motherhood I seriously doubted myself...and my ability to raise a child. And I have an angelic child. The Baby is so healthy, so happy and is a great sleeper. Yet, in those first few weeks, I literally found myself holding TB up to my face and seething, "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?????" as she wailed because she was probably just effing gassy or something.
- I (not so secretly) aspire to acquire enough of a following (and blog acumen) to do what Amalah does...only with less cussing. Because I'm still terrified of my mother stumbling upon this and wringing her hands, her head hung low, muttering, "I didn't raise her to talk like that!" No, mother, you did not. And for that reason alone, I shall resort to "initial speak," which my brother instituted in his household upon having kids.
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